


In a Lonely Place

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Episode Related, M/M, Points of View, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-19
Updated: 2006-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Things take an unexpected turn after Brian watches one of his beloved b/w classics.





	In a Lonely Place

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: The movie in question is _In a Lonely Place_ , starring Humphrey Bogart and Gloria Grahame – couldn't help but use the title for my story *grin*  


* * *

_I was born when you kissed me,_

_I died when you left me,_

_And I lived while you loved me._   
  


 

The day had been completely and utterly fucked. It wasn't as if I'd expected anything different when I came home, no. I knew the loft would be empty – not only of him, but also of his things. He'd probably been over even before we "met" at the diner. By now, he'll have moved in with the fucking fiddler, and I'm sitting here, in front of the fucking TV screen, falling apart at the seams. And no amount of Beam can fix that. On the contrary. And it's all thanks to that fucking movie!  
  
A classic, of course. Something that Justin would always tease me about, asking if we couldn't watch something from _this_ century instead. But I don't think he'd have fallen asleep while watching this particular film. Okay, I might not be a fucking screenplay writer, or have a temper like the main character, but that Dixon Steele was still very much like... From that second onward, the evening went to hell. And I went with it. I guess last night finally caught up with me, and my fucked-up brain kept playing that one moment over and over – the moment when he turned around and left with _Ian_. That was when I took up the Beam – glasses optional.  
  
And then that fucking sentence came up – and I just know that Justin would have loved it. _I was born when you kissed me, I died when you left me, and I lived while you loved me._ Fucking corny line! Fucking movie! And fuck if that wasn't how I felt! I sat there, the remote in my right – thumb hovering over the stand-by button – the Beam in my left, and I admitted it, if only to myself. Yes, Brian Kinney had only ever felt alive – truly alive – when a certain blond twink had been around. And to watch him leave had pushed me off the cliff I hadn't known I was standing on. Fuck it all.  
  
And if all that hadn't been pathetic already, the thing I did afterwards surely was. I dropped the remote, and went over to the bin to extract that drawing of Rage I had crumbled up just a few hours ago. And I always thought Mikey was pitiable. I was sadly fucking mistaken, boys and girls. Cause for all the times that he screwed up one way or another, he never would have done what I did. I had been granted this one chance, and I blew it – blew it knowing what I was doing. He'd asked me, had all but begged me to tell him that I wanted him to stay. _It's your call where you wanna be. You decide._ No person in their right mind would do that. It wasn't as if he was asking for a grand gesture at that point. All he wanted was for me to tell him that he would be making a fucking mistake if he left for that loser. I didn't stop the man I love – yes, I do love him, I think that's been firmly established by now, just like the fact that I can never ever tell him – didn't stop him from tearing out my heart.  
  
Fucking movie! I think they made it just to torture me. To show me what I stood to lose now that it's too late. All this bullshit about him doing what would make _him_ happy... What about me? Why didn't I tell him what I want?! Yeah, right. Because I'm _Brian Fucking Kinney_ and I don't deserve shit! Only... When he was with me, I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, I might deserve something after all. A little bit of happiness, the happiness that I only ever experienced with him. Cause we were happy. And I fucking tried! Shit!  
  
Why couldn't I just swallow my fucking pride for once and give him something _meaningful_ for his birthday? Yes, I know that his birthday was the beginning of the end. I'm not nearly drunk enough to forget about that. Or that I'd give anything right now to turn back time and do things differently. Only ... I wouldn't. Because he deserves so much better than the best I can give him. But he knew that all along, didn't he? And still he stuck it out until he couldn't hold on anymore.  
  
 _I lived while you loved me._ I want to live, fuck it! That was why I went to his godforsaken Prom. Why I watched over him every night when he was at the fucking hospital. Why I took him in. It was why I accepted his rules, damn it!  
  
The bottle is empty, and by the time I hear the knock on the door, it has been joined by another. Fuck it, Mikey. Just leave me alone. I still stumble over to open, ready to send Mikey back to his beloved professor. But it isn't Mikey. "I ... I'm sorry, but I forgot to print out something I need for class tomorrow... Fuck, Brian! You look like shit!" Why, thank you, Sunshine. I just motion for him to come in, and make my way to the bedroom. I guess I had a few drops too many cause I somehow end up tripping over one of the steps and... "Oh God, Brian... Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fucking fabulous!" I hold my bleeding nose and try to stop my eyes from watering. "Why don't you just get what you came here for and then return to your lover's arms? He must be mad with worry already." Okay, I didn't mean to say this. I really didn't. And I'll never watch Bogart-movies again. Justin is studying my face intently, and then suddenly he leans in to kiss me, bloody nose and all.  
  
And then there's that smile on his features when he draws back, and he rushes to the bathroom to get a cool cloth, and starts to clean my face, whispering, "You're right, I should return to his arms as you put it." Somehow that gets through to my alcohol-befuddled brain, and I'm steeling myself for my ultimate death... _I died when you left me._ "But lucky for me, I'm already there..." What? He just smiles, and I'm feeling life seeping back into me, and I think that sometimes being drunk and bleeding can mean so much more than all the romantic gestures in the whole fucking world put together...  


  
  


FIN.


End file.
